


Mini Christmas

by theinsandoutsofcastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 21:23:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5681266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinsandoutsofcastiel/pseuds/theinsandoutsofcastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Could u plz do a one shot where the boys & the reader are on a witch case & the witch casts a spell or something on reader & she ends up as a 3 year old for a while. And Dean just finds her really cute and funny etc maybe fluff at the end? Thanks! AND Can we get a Christmas Dean fic with a reader who’s become young again, like maybe five or six? Please and thank you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mini Christmas

Warnings: I don’t think there are any, Reader becomes a child again, but that’s about it.

Fic:

“Dean, wake up, wake up!” you exclaim, jumping onto his bed.

“Ugh,” Dean groans, “I’m - wait, who are you and how did you get in here?”

“Stop being silly,” you laugh, “You know who I am. It’s time to get up, it’s almost Christmas and we need to make cookies for Santa.”

“Y/N?” Dean asks, looking shocked.

“Yeah silly,” you giggle, “Let’s go!” You grab his hand and tug, but he doesn’t move an inch.

“You don’t see anything wrong with this?” Dean asks, “Yesterday you were an adult and today you’re, what, three, four? Maybe five?”

“You’re funny,” you giggle, tugging his hand again.

“How did this happen?” Dean asks, “We have to fix you.”

“I’m not broken,” you respond, getting frustrated, “Can we make cookies now? Sam said I need you to help.”

“Sam knows about this?” Dean asks.

“Yeah,” you answer, “He’s reading books now. He said you have to help me make cookies.”

“Um, yeah, ok,” Dean says, running his free hand through his hair, “Give me a minute and I’ll come help you ok?”

“Yay!” you exclaim, jumping off Dean’s bed. You run off towards the kitchen and wait impatiently for Dean. You can hear Sam and Dean having a conversation in the other room and it makes you even more impatient.

“Just take care of her while I look for a cure,” Sam says, “It must’ve been a spell or a curse cast by that last witch we hunted.”

“I’ll try,” Dean says, “But don’t take your time finding a cure. We need to fix this before she throws a tantrum.”

“Hurry up,” you demand, walking into the room.

“Yep,” Dean says, “Sam, keep reading your books, Y/N and I are going to go make cookies for Santa.”

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” you exclaim, taking Dean’s hand and pulling him to the kitchen.

“Ok, ok,” Dean laughs, “So, what kind of cookies do you wanna make?”

“Sugar!” you answer, “With icing and sprinkles and chocolate chips and marshmallows . . .”

“That’s a lot of sweet stuff,” Dean says, “Are you sure you don’t want something a little simpler, like chocolate chip cookies?”

“They have to be sweet,” you pout, “That’s what Santa wants.”

“Ok, sure, fine,” Dean says, trying to placate you, “Sugar cookies it is, with icing, sprinkles, chocolate chips, and marshmallows.” Dean pulls out a cookbook from one of the top shelves and puts it down on the table, flipping through the pages until he finds a recipe for sugar cookies. He runs around the kitchen, pulling everything you need from the cabinets and drawers before placing them on the tabletop in front of you. “Ok, if I tell you what we need, can you measure it for me?” Dean asks, opening up the sugar.

“Yes,” you answer, picking up one of the measuring cups and reaching for the bowl.

“Confident, aren’t you?” Dean laughs, “Ok, let’s start with the sugar.” He reads out the recipe to you, one ingredient at the time. Before long, you’ve got the dough all mixed up and you’re ready to bake, but Dean tells you otherwise. “It has to go in the refrigerator first,” he informs you.

“Why?” you ask.

“Because,” he answers.

“Because why?” you ask again.

“So that’s how it is?” Dean asks as he wraps the dough in saran wrap, “You want to play the why game?”

“How do you play?” you ask.

“Well, I’ll ask you a question and you have to tell me a story that answers it,” Dean answers, “Then you can ask me a question.”

“Ok!” you answer.

“Let’s see, why are you only three years old?” Dean asks.

“Because I’ve had three birthdays,” you answer matter of factly.

“That’s not a very good story,” Dean says, sitting across from you, “You have to be creative.” You take a moment to think.

“Once upon a time, there was a girl,” you begin, “She had two friends named Sam and Dean. One day they went on a trip. They met a mean witch.”

“A witch?” Dean asks, acting surprised, “Then what happened?”

“She cast a spell,” you continue, “And the girl became three years old.”

“So what’s the cure?” Dean asks.

“This isn’t fair,” you complain, “It’s my turn to ask a question.” Dean plays along, letting you ask a question before telling you a story. The two of you go back and forth like this for a long time, asking questions and telling stories while you roll out the dough and cut out Christmas shapes.

“So,” Dean begins as he places a pan of cookies in the oven, “How does the girl from the story reverse the spell?”

“She waits for the spell to end,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders.

“That’s not exactly a cure,” Dean says, “That could take forever.”

“This game is boring!” you declare, “When can we decorate cookies?”

“You’ve gotta be patient Sweetheart,” Dean tells you, “Let’s make the icing while we wait.” He gathers the ingredients and pours them into a bowl while you mix, powdered sugar flying out of the bowl. “You’re a mess!” Dean laughs, wiping the powdered sugar from your face. You giggle as you swipe your finger through the icing and place a dollop on Dean’s nose. “Hey!” Dean laughs before doing the same thing to you.

Before you know it, the cookies are out of the oven and cooling on the rack. You keep Dean laughing as you run around the kitchen, reaching for things to decorate the cookies with. Finally, you settle down in your chair and grab a spatula, piling icing onto your cookie of choice. Reaching for the sprinkles, you pour them onto the cookie.

“Slow down there Sweetheart,” Dean laughs, “Santa’s got a lot of houses to go to and that’s a lot of sugar.”

“It has to be sweet!” you tell him.

“Ok, ok,” Dean says, “But we’ve got all these cookies to decorate, don’t use all the sprinkles on one cookie!” You watch as Dean decorates his own cookie, his is much more thought out than yours. Reaching for another cookie, you try to copy what Dean had done. No matter what you do, yours turn out as a pile of icing and sprinkles.

“Mine don’t look good,” you complain once all the cookies have been decorated.

“Don’t say that,” Dean consoles, “Yours look great!” He reaches for one and takes a bite of it. “They taste good!” Dean says, still chewing his food, “Really sweet, but good!” You can’t help but smile, very proud of yourself.

“Do you think Santa will like them?” you ask.

“Of course he will,” Dean answers, “But you know what?”

“What?” you ask excitedly.

“We’ve got the cookies, but I don’t think the bunker is decorated the way it should be,” Dean says, “Let’s go to the store and pick up some decorations.”

“Can we get a tree?” you ask, even more excited.

“Sure,” Dean says, “Maybe some lights and stuff too.”

“Yay!” you exclaim, hopping down from your chair, “Let’s go!” Dean laughs as he watches you run off to the Impala.


End file.
